REFLECTIONS
</THE FIRST MEMORY>
At the end, it is not the victories or failures that return, but the smallest collisions of being. A glance, a breath shared, a moment of forgetting the self. Love surfaces not as a triumph over death, but as a quiet witness to it. We spend our lives moving toward and away from each other, never knowing which step is the last. We do not outrun death; we circle it, we dance with it, we name it with every action we take.
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</SOUVENIRS FROM THE END>
YEAR 2068 / REFUSE RESIST
At the trembling edge of Earth's final chapter, the skies crack and the streets roar. Riots erupt. Fires break. Do not fear the chaos; it is our final stand. Sharpen your will. Stand unbent. Fight! Even in the end. Refuse. Resist.
YEAR 2069 / RATS
The rats return, swarming the Earth. From within the fire and the fury, wreaking havoc and chaos across the lands. Chewing wire and bone. Machine bare. Electrifying storm. An invasion. This is the age of the rats.
YEAR 2088 / DRONE WARS
We called it the Drone Wars, though no one really knew what we were fighting. They never spoke, never showed themselves. Only distant humming, like a swarm of wasps in the sky, followed by bursts of light too bright to look at and silence too deep to bear. Cities crumbled without warning. Sometimes, just before the end, you’d hear a low mechanical breathing, as if the sky itself was alive. We don’t know how many of us are left. We tried to fight, to signal, to hide. None of it mattered. The machines were patient, infinite, without need or remorse. If this reaches anyone, know that we were here. Know that we heard the future arriving, and it did not knock.
YEAR 2089 / DEATH
We witnessed the final stand of the last brave soul. He did not waver. He did not fear. But it did not matter. Death is deaf to courage. It took him all the same, silent and sure, as he stared into the end, unblinking. I cannot tell you he will not be forgotten; not when there is no one left to remember.
YEAR 2091 / EARLY DAYS
The early days after were calm. We crawled up not with hope, but with hesitation. No one was there. It was scarier than the war. The sound of bombs and screams now reduced to loss and fear. To emptiness. To a quiet prelude of a deeper truth.
YEAR 2099 / VITRUVIAN INTELLIGENCE
It has been many years now. The hybrids have dug the human form into code and equations. Stripping light, life, flesh, and memory. What once breathed now computes. What once dreamed now obeys. The new age is being written. Perhaps it is better this way. The last of us here shall bare witness.
YEAR 2122 / GENERATE LIFE
The life we once new is no longer grown; it is rendered. Landscapes bloom on command, seas ripple in pre-approved hues, and mountains rise not from earth, but from code. What we once called nature is now a curated dream, crafted by AI and governed by silent laws. The wind whispers in regulated rhythms, and sunsets fade with licensed grace. We do not witness the world, we receive it, like a memory we never lived, wrapped in data and permission.
YEAR 2784 / ANTS
No kings. No Empires. No banners or war cries. Only a colony, decentralized, moving slowly, in control. They are the architects of tomorrow.